Chapter 41
LET HIM CARRY YOU IN A BLOOD-SOAKED GOWN. IT’S CALLED MAKING AN ENTRANCE. #DRAMATICRETURN
DAKOTA
Holy shit. I just got sucker-punched in the head.
I’d seen the news about this happening all over Chicago, but I never thought I’d be the lucky victim.
Turns out? It sucked even worse than I’d imagined.
The good news: I didn’t lose consciousness.
The bad news: something split open because now a dribble of sticky, warm blood cascaded down my ear and neck.
Gross.
And as I lay here, trying to catch my bearings, I also decided that chivalry and human decency were pretty much dead. The few pedestrians in the area continued to amble by like a woman getting sucker-punched wasn’t worth looking up from their screens.
Welcome to the big city, I guess.
To his credit, one dude did stop and ask if I was okay. But he didn’t exactly wait for my answer. When I stumbled to my knees and mumbled, “Yes,” he walked off.
Damn it to hell. In the category of Shit Nights, this one was inching its way to the very top.
Resigning myself to sitting on my ass, I brought my hand up to check if my head was still attached.
Based on how the pain was escalating, I wasn’t entirely sure.
Good news: the side of my head seemed intact.
Yay. Bad news: the bleeding was worse than I thought.
My entire hand was covered in blood, dripping onto the sidewalk like a crime scene.
“Jesus!” a male voice barked.
Okay, maybe I’d jumped to conclusions about chivalry being dead because, suddenly, a Good Samaritan was at my side, his arm protectively wrapping around my shoulders.
“Dakota, are you okay?”
I knew that voice. I managed to lift my eyes and met the very worried gaze staring back at me. Eyebrows pulled together, attention sweeping over my body, looking for injuries.
“Ryker?”
“The fuck happened?”
“Why are you here?”
“Are you shot?”
He touched the side of my head, and I winced.
“No. Why did you come down here? The dinner party’s still going on.”
“That’s seriously your question right now?” His voice cracked with disbelief. “What happened to you?”
“You first.”
“Are you kidding me?” he snarled. “You’re hemorrhaging all over Chicago, and you’re asking me why I happened to come down the elevator?”
“I’m not hemorrhaging. And yes.”
His lips thinned like he couldn’t believe I was holding my medical assistance hostage over something so trivial.
“You were incredibly upset and went off alone into the night when there’s a potential crime family threat after you. You think I’m not going to follow you out and make sure you’re okay? Jesus, I knew we should have hired security for tonight.”
Well, that was … really nice of him.
Too bad he didn’t come, like, two minutes earlier. Maybe we could have snapped my attacker’s dick off together. #Bonding.
“Thank you. That’s very chivalrous.”
And now that I was thinking about it, why was he the one who came?
It stung, realizing Axel hadn’t checked on me.
In his defense, I’d specifically told him I needed space.
But now that I knew said space came with a fist to my skull, I’d definitely changed my mind.
A girl could do that. Pretty sure I’d read in a magazine article somewhere that it often happened after one got punched in the head.
“Where is Axel?”
Ryker continued examining my head, half paying attention to his answer. “Last I saw, he and Mathew were going at it.”
“He … what?”
“Looks like the bleeding’s slowing, but—”
“Holy shit. As in fighting?”
“Most likely,” he said absently.
“We need to get up there and stop them!”
“We should have Blake check you out.”
He helped me to my feet, which turned out to be more of a process than I’d expected. Maybe that hit had destabilized my inner ear because I was all sorts of dizzy.
“Dakota?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to lift you up now and carry you upstairs. You’re going to do that thing where you protest and tell me you can walk up there alone, but it’s not happening. So, just skip it. If you want to save your fiancé from murdering Mathew, we need to get up there fast.”
Well, that was one way to get a girl to go along with something.
So, I didn’t resist when Ryker scooped me up bridal-style and carried me through the lobby and into the elevator.
Once we were safely inside, ascending toward what I could only hope wasn’t a murder scene, Ryker growled, “Tell me exactly what happened.”
“Hell if I know. I stepped outside, something hit the side of my head, I went down.”
“Did you hear a gunshot?”
“No. I think it was a fist or maybe something small and hard. A rock maybe?”
“You see anyone?”
“A guy wearing all black. He ran off.”
“Fuck.” His jaw tightened. “Whoever did this is lucky I didn’t see him.”
I eyed him. “You’re a lawyer. You wouldn’t hurt someone.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
Okaaay …
“It’s against the law,” I pointed out.
“Really? Hadn’t learned that in my years of law school training.”
I bit back a laugh, shocked that anyone could get me to feel any ounce of humor right now.
“I’m sure it’s not the Romano family,” I said, trying to steer us back to safer conversational territory.
“What makes you say that?”
“Aren’t they supposed to be, like, ruthless? This seems really childish. Sucker-punching a woman in the head. I’ve seen this on the news. It’s probably just some stupid kid.”
“Yeah,” Ryker said. “Maybe.”
But he didn’t fully believe that. I could tell by the way his grip tightened around me.
“I’m bleeding on your suit,” I realized in horror.
“Fuck the suit, Dakota.”
My eyes burned, and suddenly, I was hit with a wave of gratitude so fierce, it nearly knocked me sideways. Which, granted, wouldn’t take much in my current state.
But seriously, here was Ryker. Researching crime family threats in his spare time like some kind of legal superhero.
Keeping tabs on us when we were too stubborn or distracted to keep tabs on ourselves.
And when I’d stormed off into the night like a dramatic heroine in a gothic novel, he’d actually followed me.
Not because he had to. Not because anyone asked him to. But because he cared.
And now he was carrying me against his warm chest, his arms solid and protective around me, like I was something precious instead of a bleeding mess who couldn’t even walk straight. The steady thrum of his heartbeat under my body was more comforting than it had any right to be.
“You know, you’re a really good guy, Ryker.”
“I try.”
“No. Like, really good.”
“If you’re hitting on me, stop. Axel will cut my balls off. He’s already pissed that Mathew likes you. Don’t add me to his hit list.”
I couldn’t help but smirk. “I’m not hitting on you. I just meant … thank you and all that.”
“Anytime, Dakota.”
“Ryker?”
“Hmm?”
“If you tell Knox about me getting punched, I’m afraid I’ll have to be the one to cut off your balls.”
He smirked. Shook his head. “You’re fierce—you know that?”
If by fierce, you mean concussed and bleeding, then sure.
The elevator dinged and opened.
Revealing a red-faced Axel with his hands around Mathew’s throat.